So now she had a walking gown, full dress for evening entertainments, and a promenade gown. She had a shawl, a pelisse, a pair of boots, dancing slippers, and an assortment of feathers and pins to dress her hair. It wasn’t nearly enough, but with imagination, she could probably equip herself for most events a lady or a servant might attend.

Phoebe stared through the window of her attic room at the patchwork of fields disappearing into the distance, and tried to feel hopeful for the future.

Instead, a pall of gloom had settled on her shoulders.

Hugh had been away for several days. He’d taken Ada to see some people. It was all rather mysterious, and she wondered if it had something to do with the child Ada had so reluctantly been parted from, though surely Hugh would not sanction his sister visiting her illegitimate child.

The truth was, Phoebe was starting to feel vulnerable. She had come to enjoy feeling safe with a man who made her come alive, even if the surroundings were not ideal, but now she feared the awful wrench that would inevitably occur when Hugh decided to part with her, or Phoebe had no choice but to leave.

Sighing, her mind filled again with the image of Hugh; of his smile, his humor, his adherence to a strict moral code.

He’d been assiduous in not having relations with Phoebe under the same roof while Ada was here. Clearly, he regarded Ada as a paragon of virtue, despite his sister’s fall from grace which was interesting, Phoebe thought, with a touch of irony.

He’d been assiduous in following through with his promise to equip Phoebe with a decent wardrobe in the week since Ada had arrived and this, she knew, was in preparation to set her up in a townhouse in St John’s Wood, or some vicinity in easy proximity to his townhouse when he returned to London.

A few months ago, the idea would have been laughable, shocking, untenable.

But that was before she was branded a murderess with no means of a fair trial.

No, in London Phoebe would start a new life as a fully-fledged fallen woman, but the strange fact was that she didn’t mind the idea of sharing her life with a man she felt strongly about and who’d pledged to look after her. Who’d have thought her damaged heart was capable of such feeling…still?

The unfortunate fact was, though, that Phoebe would much prefer to be his wife. Yes, she’d once been Lady Cavanaugh and mistress of several estates, but she’d be far happier as the wife of a man of more moderate means who simply loved her.

Always, though, was that lurking doubt. Would he still love her if he knew the truth about her? That she was, in fact, the murderous, adulterous, Lady Cavanaugh?

Listlessly, Phoebe trailed to the window and wondered when Hugh would return. He’d been vague, saying there were matters concerning Ada to attend to, and he really couldn’t say. He’d kissed her affectionately, holding her tightly against him in a parting farewell that spoke volumes about the state of his feeling for her. And hers for him. His eyes had been filled with genuine regard and genuine regret at having to be parted from her.

Now, as she saw a carriage crest the hill coming in their direction, she felt a surge of hope and quickly dashed to the chest at the foot of her bed to change her dress.

Hugh was back, and she wanted to look as charming and desirable for him as was possible. Quickly she combed her hair, pinning it into an ensemble her own maid had perfected with her quick and nimble hands. She wondered where Barbara was now, and whether her maid believed her mistress Lady Cavanaugh guilty of murdering Ulrick. Barbara had been a dour retainer, and there’d never been much intimacy between them during the eight months the woman had been in her employ though Barbara had always seemed loyal. Phoebe suspected her husband had ordered their housekeeper, Mrs Fenton, to inform the servants that no conversation beyond the necessary was to be entered into with their mistress. It was one of his many ways of keeping Phoebe restrained beneath his roof.

It didn’t take Phoebe long before she was satisfied by her appearance. The lack of fear, and the increasing joy with which she received Hugh had erased the fine lines of worry around her eyes of which she’d become so conscious.

Pushing the ivory comb into her hair to properly secure it, she went to the window, her heart beating with excitement as she threw wide the casement, eagerly anticipating greeting Hugh as he stepped from the carriage.

Instead, it was Sir Roderick’s carriage below, and there was Sir Roderick stepping out, leaning heavily on his silver-topped cane but glancing up at the house and catching sight of Phoebe.

She ducked her head back in and ran to her iron cot against the wall, alarm making her weak-legged. She’d been in full view for less than a second. She had to believe he’d not recognized her.

The casement was still open as she heard him rapping on the door before Mrs Withins opened it.

Phoebe dare not be caught out, but she had to hear what had brought him to the house and be ready to flee, if she had to. With quiet stealth, she returned to the window where she stood just out of sight while the sounds of the visitor conversing with the housekeeper filtered up to her.

It was as dire as she had feared. A warrant was out for Lady Cavanaugh’s arrest, and a recent sighting confirmed the belief she was still in the area. Thereafter followed a description of the “dangerous murderess” as she was referred to. A description that was frighteningly similar to that of Phoebe when she was dressed according to her station.

But would Mrs Withins draw any parallels? She wasn’t particularly intelligent or observant as far as Phoebe could see. No, she’d never think of low-born, immoral, lazy Phoebe in the same way as highborn Lady Cavanaugh. Would she?

She heard Mrs Withins tutting and then her wheezing voice. “Ah, but it ain’t surprisin’, Sir Roderick, fer we’ve long ‘eard the stories of Lady Cavanaugh. She’s a wicked, wanton creature an’ all us servants are shocked with the tales of ‘er doins’. No, I ain’t seen ‘er, but I’d be the first ter tell yer so’s I could see ‘er face justice. What’s the world comin’ to if a ‘usband can’t be safe in ‘is own bed?”

Phoebe could hardly bear to hear any more, though she waited until she heard the sound of the carriage departing. With a sigh of relief she collapsed on her bed, but in less than half an hour the crunch of wheels on gravel had her again dashing in terror to the window, prepared to flee with just the clothes on her back. Had someone come to apprehend her?

However, it was Hugh and her heart surged with joy to see him. Not caring what Mrs Withins might think, she ran down the stairs and out into the garden where she threw herself into his arms the moment he issued from his carriage.

“Good Lord, Phoebe, what’s this?” he asked in some alarm, but she stopped his questions with a kiss.

“I don’t care what anyone thinks. I’ve missed you so much!” she cried when he broke away, staring down at her with some bemusement.

A slow, spreading smile transformed his face. “Did you really, Phoebe?”

“Yes, really. And not because you’ve bought me a new wardrobe, but because you do something to me here.” She tapped her heart and took his arm, happily allowing him to lead her into the house. What did she care for appearances? Right now, her heart was filled with the simple pleasure of being once again in the company of the man who made her feel safe and loved. She wasn’t going to dwell on her recent fright, and nor was she going to worry about what she must do for her own survival.

Hugh felt for her as she’d always wanted a man to feel for her. She could see it in his smile and the gentle way he cupped her cheek while he dipped his head to kiss her once more on the lips, this time gently but with great feeling, before they disappeared indoors.

Soon he would take her away from here, to the anonymity of the city where she’d be safe. One day, when the time was right, she’d reveal who she really was.

And then, possibly, he might make her his wife. It’s what she wanted above all.

In the parlor, she looked inquiringly at him. “And where is your sister?”

A shadow crossed his face, and he took her hand. “Ada should not have come here. She ran away from her aunt’s without a word, though I didn’t know it.”

“You’ve taken her back?”

“I’d never force her to remain with Aunt Belcher when she was so unhappy there.” He smiled and put his finger to Phoebe’s lips, tracing the curve with a look of bemusement. “By God but you’re beautiful, Phoebe,” he murmured. “There’s another reason I was so eager to be rid of my sister, beloved though she is to me.”

“And what might that be, sir?” Phoebe asked archly, though she knew the reason well enough, and her body was already melting at the thought of being in Hugh’s arms and feeling his warm, naked body against hers.

And then she remembered the risks of bringing a bastard into the world, and her breath froze in her throat.

“What is it, Phoebe?”

She was surprised he was so observant. She tossed her head. “Nothing of any account. I think I heard Mrs Withins, that’s all.”

“You certainly don’t like the woman, do you?”

“Not as much as she dislikes me.”

“You’d like to be away from this place I take it.”

“I would indeed! Far, far away! I can’t wait to get to London.”

“You know I’ll look after you.” He grasped her hands and brought her knuckles up to his lips. “You know you’re safe with me. I shan’t let anything happen to you, my love. Upon my honor, I swear it with my last breath.”

She was astonished at his sudden fervor. No man had ever spoken to her of love and of putting her wellbeing to any amount of inconvenience.

“Will you, sir?”

“Hugh. Please call me Hugh. We’re…lovers, Phoebe. Do you know what that means? You’re mine, and I’m yours. I’ve never taken a mistress; I’ve never taken a lover. Never wanted to before I met you. I promise you that if you’re not happy with the house I lease for you, I’ll find you another. I want you to be happy, Phoebe.”

He was leading her into the corridor as he spoke but now, instead of parting at the stairs, she to return to her servant’s attic and him to his own quarters, he kept hold of her hand as he drew her toward his own chamber.

“No need to look so concerned.” He grinned, loosening his cravat and unbuttoning his waistcoat as he put his hand on the doorknob. “The servants are two levels below us. Besides, they’re very well aware of the state of affairs between us, and in a week, what will it matter to anyone but ourselves? We’ll be in London, and you’ll be ensconced in your own lover’s bower. Why, look what you’ve done to me at the mere thought?”

The door was already closed behind them, and Hugh’s breeches were off, his rampant manhood springing proudly free before them.

She looked from him, now almost naked, to the bed, and her body throbbed with desire. But acting on desire was a dire risk. No, she couldn’t afford to conceive now. Her future was too uncertain.

“Yes, a real bed, my sweeting,” he growled, sweeping her into his arms and depositing her on the mattress. “How’s that for comfort?” His face was inches from hers as he caged her with his body. She could smell the fresh sweat from his recent ride overlaying the faint smell of sandalwood and leather.

Slowly, she raised her hand and traced the lines of his sinewy arms, trailing down his chest with her forefinger. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, but she could tell he was enjoying it.

“Do I please you?” he whispered.

“You please me,” she responded softly, “but I am afraid…” She wasn’t sure how to phrase this. A married woman was only good for producing children, so voicing concerns that regarded procreation hardly had its place.

His eyes kindled with a softness she’d not seen before. She could almost believe he cared for her concerns, and maybe he did. What did she know of men, after all? This wild romp with Hugh transcended the boundaries of her experience. She’d played the whore, and now suddenly she’d changed her mind. How could she put that into words? Yet the way he was looking at her now suggested he might care.

She cleared her throat. “I know we’ve been very…abandoned,” she began. “And this has all taken me quite by surprise. I fled in fear, and I was rescued.” She ran her forefinger the length of his finely chiseled nose while her heart flooded with gratitude and some other emotion she couldn’t define. It couldn’t be love. What did that feel like anyway?

“But I’m afraid of bearing a child and facing those consequences on my own.” She squeezed shut her eyes, not sure what she’d see when she opened them. To her surprise: understanding and tenderness.

“You won’t be alone, Phoebe. I promise you that. I love you too much. But you’re right; it would not be fair either to you or a resulting child. I should know that, of course, in view of what Ada has gone through.”

“Then what can be done?” she cried despairingly. “I must leave you—”

“Good Lord, there’s everything to be done. Has no one ever spoken to you about such matters?” He frowned. “To be honest, I thought you had that side well under control, knowing I’m not your first.”

Phoebe twisted her head to look at the wall and sighed. “I don’t know a thing about it,” she admitted miserably. “Just that I’ve never conceived. Perhaps I’m barren. But perhaps not, for contrary to what you might think, I’m not in the habit of throwing myself at men. My experience, I assure you, is limited. It’s just…I would not bring a child into the world to bear such shame if we were not married.”

“That’s a conversation for another time. If I find you as sweet in a year as you are to me right now, perhaps a child would not be such a tragedy. Our royal family has dozens of bastards happily romping around, and no one seems to think any worse of them.”

“What if you found a wife?”

A shadow of discomfort crossed his face. “I’m not looking for a wife, Phoebe. I’ve got you.”

Very unsatisfactory. But not so his gentle stroking of her breasts.

“No need to look so concerned, my precious. I hear what you say, and I know what I need to do. Now, does that satisfy you?”

She was dubious. “I’m sure whatever it is, it won’t satisfy you, sir.”

“Ah, there are plenty of other ways you can satisfy me, although I’d like to add that seeing you take your own pleasure is immensely satisfying to me.”

He rolled onto his back and pulled her on top of him so he could suckle her nipples. He was hard beneath her, and she wriggled down and without warning took him deeply into her mouth while gently playing with his balls.

“Oh my Lord, where did you learn that, Phoebe?”

She was hardly about to tell him: Wentworth. Wentworth was debauched. She’d not try half the things Wentworth would have her do to him—or that he liked to do to her. Then she shuddered with fear at the thought of what he might do to her now if he got the chance. It wouldn’t be nice.

Mistaking her response for anticipation, Hugh gently rolled her over once more.

“I’m so close, but I’m desperate to taste all your charms, Phoebe dearest, before I bury myself in you.”

Burrowing deeper into the bed, he parted her legs and gently touched his lips to her most intimate parts. “Like it?” he whispered before he ran his tongue the length of her cleft.

She gripped the sheets and tensed. “Oh, I didn’t know…” She could feel the tension within her building with an intensity she’d never experienced. “Stop, Hugh. Stop!”

But he didn’t. He kept kissing her, until she could bear it no longer, and with a great thrashing and moaning, she took her pleasure before she could stop him.

“So you did like that?” he asked with a wicked leer as he climbed back on top of her, entering her swiftly with a grunt of unadulterated pleasure.

Phoebe merely smiled her satisfaction. She might be sated, but not for long, as Hugh clearly was transported by his own heady pleasures as he thrust into her in smooth, rapidly increasing strokes.

Phoebe rode the storm, loving his total abandon, loving the pressure within her grow once again until he came with a great cry of triumph, true to his word as he withdrew just in time.

“Oh my sweet lord, Phoebe, but that was marvelous!” he gasped. “I daresay the servants heard it all the way down in the basement. Well, it’s time I took you away from this place where you feel the censure, and I can see you’re so unhappy.” He grinned, and Phoebe’s heart contracted at the guileless look on his face. Wentworth was always so dismissive and self-satisfied after acts like this, declaring that if there wasn’t an heir to be had after “that,” then he didn’t know what Phoebe’s problem was.

She tensed at the thought of him. Sir Roderick was sniffing around the neighborhood; a bounty was on her head. She needed to leave.

“Let us go soon,” she begged, and he nodded as he pulled on his breeches. Slanting a look at her, he said, “Why not tomorrow? You can wear that fetching new carriage dress you ordered, and we shall exit this part of the world as if you were my wife. Wouldn’t that be novel?”

Alarmed, Phoebe sat up clutching the sheet to her chest. “No Hugh, I shan’t leave dressed as a lady and nor with you. I won’t be branded a whore to the entire district, but worse is the danger of being recognized.”

“Come, Phoebe, you are my chosen,” he said cajolingly. “Aren’t you proud of the fact? It means you’ll never have to curtsey to a demanding employer again. Wouldn’t you love to see the expression on Mrs Withins’s face?”

“But I am fallen. The very dirt beneath the feet of people like Mrs Withins. And when you tire of me, I shall be even lower than a servant. Destined for Hell, no less.”

“Don’t cry, Phoebe!” His light-heartedness was replaced by concern as he went to her and gathered her in his arms. “I’d never treat you so shabbily. You won’t starve, whatever happens.”

“Meaning, if you take a wife or tire of me.”

“Please don’t talk like that! I can be as loyal as the Duke of Clarence who has lived with his mistress and ten children for two decades or more.” He started to button his waistcoat, warming to his theme. “And if you don’t wish to travel in my carriage, then you can follow by post. See how willing I am to humor you?” Now fully dressed, he knelt by the bed and cupped her face, smiling. “Your happiness is paramount, Phoebe.” For a moment, they stared at each other.

Then his kissed her on the forehead and was gone.